The Bar Double G lies half way between Mammoth and Mesa. Its position makes it a central point for ranchers within a radius of fifteen miles. Out of the logical need for it was born the store which Beauchamp Lee ran to supply his neighbors with canned goods, coffee, tobacco, and other indispensables; also the eating house for stage passengers passing to and from the towns. Young as she was, Melissy was the competent manager of both of these. It was one afternoon during the hour the stage stopped to let the passengers dine that Melissy's wandering eye fell upon Morse seated at one of the tables. Anger mounted within her at the cool impudence of the man. She had half a mind to order him out, but saw he was nearly through dinner and did not want to make a scene. Unfortunately Beauchamp Lee happened to come into the store just as his enemy strolled out from the dining-room. The ranchman stiffened. "What you been doing in there, seh?" he demanded sharply. "I've been eating a very good dinner in a public cafe. Any objections?" "Plenty of 'em, seh. I don't aim to keep open house for Mr. Morse." "I understand this is a business proposition. I expect to pay seventy-five cents for my meal." The eyes of the older man gleamed wrathfully. "As for yo' six bits, if you offer it to me I'll take it as an insult. At the Bar Double G we're not doing friendly business with claim jumpers. Don't you evah set yo' legs under my table again, seh." Morse shrugged, turned away to the public desk, and addressed an envelope, the while Lee glared at him from under his heavy beetling brows. Melissy saw that her father was still of half a mind to throw out the intruder and she called him to her. "Dad, Jose wants you to look at the hoof of one of his wheelers. He asked if you would come as soon as you could." Beauchamp still frowned at Morse, rasping his unshaven chin with his hand. "Ce'tainly, honey. Glad to look at it." "Dad! Please." The ranchman went out, grumbling. Five minutes later Morse took his seat on the stage beside the driver, having first left seventy-five cents on the counter. The stage had scarce gone when the girl looked up from her bookkeeping to see the man with the Chihuahua hat. "_Buenos tardes, senorita_," he gave her with a flash of white teeth. "_Buenos_," she nodded coolly. But the dancing eyes of her could not deny their pleasure at sight of him. They had rested upon men as handsome, but upon none who stirred her blood so much. He was in the leather chaps of a cowpuncher, gray-shirted, and a polka dot kerchief circled the brown throat. Life rippled gloriously from every motion of him. Hermes himself might have envied the perfect grace of the man. She supplied his wants while they chatted. "Jogged off your range quite a bit, haven't you?" she suggested. "Some. I'll take two bits' worth of that smokin', _nina_." She shook her head. "I'm no little girl. Don't you know I'm now half past eighteen?"